Things to Remember and Things to Forget
by Anthony Dale
Summary: After years of foster care where his only company was his dreams, Feliciano's brother, whom he didn't even know existed, comes to take him to America. There he manages to fall in love with Ludwig, but in a small town where homosexuality is frowned upon, issues quickly arise. Along they way the two realize how deep their roots really go, and Feliciano remembers why he'd forgotten.
1. Chapter 1: Reale

**A****/****N****:** Everything in parentheses is spoken in Italian, but translated to English, because I'm sure most of you don't speak Italian.

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"_Our __truest __life __is __when __we __are __in __our __dreams __awake__." - __Henry __David __Thoreau_

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Feliciano's fingers traced along the familiar embossed cross on the old bible. A simple lift of the cover revealed the most beautiful word ever laid down in ink.

'Vargas.'

That one little word, his surname, was proof without a doubt that at one point he had a family. At one point there was a loving hand that had scrawled that name on the inside cover. Feliciano could only _dream_ of who that hand belong to, but dreams were better than nothing by far.

They were there for him, every night he saw their faces. A man who he recognized as his grandfather, but appeared rather young to be a grandfather to anyone. There was also an older brother to Feliciano, his age ranging from six or seven, to ten years, depending on when the dream was set.

The dreams were so lovely, always seen through his eyes as if he were but a very small child. Stories of ancient cities, old god and goddesses, of love and adventure. Paintings lining the walls, and long nights spent by the fireplace, lulled to sleep by the gentle strumming of a guitar. Feliciano had found that no matter how hard his reality became, those dreams would always make it worth it.

Maybe he was a little crazy for having made up a family in his head, but it was what he needed to cope, and there was no way he could throw out the lovely fantasies yet. There was still two more years he'd have to spend in foster care, and even then, what would come next? He still wouldn't have a family. He still wouldn't have friends. He still wouldn't have a love. The old bible and the pretend family were quite literally all he had.

Until he answered the door, that day.

A knock at the door warranted no unusual circumstance, as people would often come visit the home looking to adopt, or to ask Ms. Rinaldi if she were willing to take in another, (the answer was always no.)

He stood up from off the couch where he had lain, dreamily dwelling on his make believe family and his very real heirloom bible. He made his way to the door, drearily, wondering if the person behind the oak barrier was interested in turning him down like the other...oh how many had it been? Forty-three? Feliciano wasn't sure, he'd begun to lose count. No one was very interested in a clumsy, dumb, loud, teenage boy. No one had even wanted him when he was younger and cuter, outside of that one family, but Feliciano would rather have been rejected one hundred times over than have to be adopted by _anyone_ like them again.

He turned the knob and swung the door open, and where he'd usually insert a polite greeting in Italian, a gush of air flew out of his mouth. It was either the most disheartening coincidence ever, or his dreams had literally come true.

His eyes were met with those of someone who seemed a little surprised to see him as well, but then surprise faded to vague grumpiness. It wasn't the expression that had caught Feliciano so off guard, though.

It was his face.

The hazel eyes, leaning a little towards green, the same soft features as Feliciano, but slightly worn as if with anger and contempt. His hair was dark brown, nearly black, and cut like Feliciano's, except his part was just a little off to the side. He even had the same curl jutting out awkwardly from his head, though this mans was protruding from his hairline, rather than his left lobe like Feliciano's.

There was no mistaking it, this man was the older version of the brother that so frequently inhabited his dreams. He seemed the right amount of years older than Feliciano, even. He also stood just an inch or two taller.

Feliciano's lower lip quivered, "L-Lovino..."

The man looked at him peculiarly, causing Feliciano to suddenly become afraid. No, there was no way this man was his make believe brother, no. Lovino didn't exist. He was just a dream. Yet, the man spoke after looking Feliciano over curiously for a moment.

"(Yeah, it's me. Why do you look like you just saw a fucking ghost or something? And where's your shit, didn't that broad tell you I was coming today?)"

Another wisp of air escaped Feliciano's lips, it felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of him, He took a moment to choke out a sentance, "(T-today? No one...no one even told me th-that I even h-had a-a-a...)" It took several tries to get the word out, "(...brother.)"

Lovino looked at him peculiarly, his face filled with even more confusion, "(...How the fuck did you know my name, then? And I never said I was your-)"

"(I guessed.)" Feliciano answered too quickly. He didn't want to creep Lovino out by telling him how he _really_ knew. Unfortunately, Lovino didn't seem to be buying it from the look of disbelief he gave Feliciano.

"(Good goddamn guess, then.)" He muttered dryly, inviting himself into the house and slamming the door forcefully behind him, "(Where's that hag's office? I need to have a talk with her. I filled out so much damn paperwork I might need surgery before I can even hold a pen right again, and then she doesn't even fucking tell you I'm coming to pick you _up__._)"

"(Y-you were here be-f-fore?)"

"(Yeah, to fill out all that shit so I could get you...that bitch needs to get her act together, dammit. Why the fuck would she not tell you I'm coming today?)"

"(She's not a bitch.)"

What Lovino had said upset Feliciano, a little. Sure, Ms. Rinaldi was a mean, shrewd old woman, but she had redeeming qualities. She still looked out for her foster children. She really did care about them, even if she was absolutely horrible at showing it. She also baked amazing birthday cakes, and had a thumb so green she could make rocks bloom if she wanted. Feliciano had only been with her a few months, but he had known her for long enough to know that she meant well. While he felt like he'd known Lovino for his whole life, he still wasn't sure if half the dreams, memories, whatever they were, were even true. In any case, he had no right to come in and call Feliciano's current caregiver a bitch

That wasn't to say, though, that he didn't want to go with Lovino, because he most certainly did. He wanted out of all the foster homes, he wanted away from all the rejection. He just wanted a _real _family and a _real _home. Now that a brother he had thought was just a figment of his imagination had showed up, he was positive that now was his chance. He'd finally get out.

Lovino snorted at the comment, and muttered dryly while looking at nothing in particular, "(If you knew half of what she made me go through for this you might reconsider that.)"

Feliciano wasn't sure what he meant, but he replied anyway, not a trace of doubt in his voice, "(No, I wouldn't.)"

Lovino snorted again, shrugging off Feliciano's comment and changing the topic back to his previous question, "(Just tell me where her office is so I can talk to her.)"

Feliciano nodded, and then reached out one of his small, slender hands to grasp ahold of Lovino's. He looked as if he was going to jerk away for a second, but relaxed a little after a moment, though the sour look from his face didn't fade.

Feliciano could have led Lovino to the office without the hand-holding, but he had just found his brother whom he'd only known in dreams. He wanted to touch him. The _real_ him. He wanted to feel the pulse of someone he shared blood with. He wanted to feel to make sure he was real.

Feliciano led him to the office door at the end of the hallway and released him once they stood in front of it. Feliciano had just begun to raise his fist to knock on the door, but before his knuckles could make contact with the wood, Lovino shouted.

"(HEY, OPEN UP! I WANT TO KNOW WHY THE HELL MY BROTHER ISN'T READY TO GO!)"  
Feliciano instinctively took two very large steps backwards, pressing his back against the bedroom door opposite the office. Ms. Rinaldi was not a very pleasant woman before noon, and if one was planning to shout her down before then, it was the equivalent to waving a red cape in a bull's face.

The door whipped open and Ms. Rinaldi's tall, bony form appeared in the doorway. She stared down Lovino with her beady, bespectacled eyes before speaking.

"(Hello, Mr. Vargas. You never informed me of when you'd arrive. You just said you'd be by within the week, whenever you got your plane tickets.)" Her tone was calm and controlled, as it always was. One could never tell her mood by listening alone. You had to look at how she put her hands on her hips, making her look like a tall, ornery bird. Feliciano knew very well, though, that if Lovino pushed her any harder, she'd tear him down in ways only Ms. Rinaldi could.

"(Don't tell me what I said! Anyway, why the Hell did he look at me like I was a fucking ghost? Didn't anyone tell him he had a damn brother?)"

Ms. Rinaldi's eyes narrowed and Feliciano knew a sharp comment was sure to follow, "(No. No one thought you'd actually come to adopt him, and we figured it was best not to get his hopes up.)"

Feliciano's throat tightened, no one had thought Lovino would come for him? Was he really so awful that everyone thought even his own brother wouldn't love him? He steadied himself against the door frame and attempted to not let himself be swayed physically or emotionally by the comment. But this was Ms. Rinaldi. When she hit her mark, she hit it so well that the sharp words would often fly through their target and hit the closest person, as well.

Feliciano could see Lovino's fist clench from behind, and his ears go red, suggest that his whole face had as well. His tone was low, and his words muffled through grit teeth as he took one step closer "(Do you _honestly_ think I would just _leave __him__._)"

Ms. Rinaldi was silent, but her glare spoke an entire novel's worth of answers.

"(He. is. all. I. have.)" Lovino said, quiet and staccato, but throughout his next phrase his voice evolved to a shout, "(I would _never _just leave him here. Do you even _know-_-No, does _anyone _even know how fucking long I've waited to get him out of shitholes like this?)"

"(Too long.)"

Lovino froze for a second, and seem to coil back at the words, they seemed to have hit him in a place Feliciano couldn't see. Lovino spoke quietly, looking down at the floor, "(I know, but I'm here _now_.)"

"(It would have been much nicer for Feliciano if you would have been here eight months ago.)"

Lovino's fist tightened and he said nothing. Feliciano thought, eight months ago...that was back when he'd been adopted by that horrible family...the one that had-

"(N-no! That's not his fault!)" Feliciano shouted desperately, his mouth outrunning his mind.

Lovino and Ms. Rinaldi stayed where they were, no one saying anything to confirm or deny what Feliciano had said. Though the silence was answer enough.

"(Please, no one can help it when things like that-)"

"(Shut-up, Feliciano.)" Lovino spat.

Feliciano was hurt by his brother's quick, sharp tongue. A long silence followed before anyone spoke again.

"(Mr. Vargas,)" Ms. Rinaldi heaved a sigh, "(You filled out all the paperwork, correct?)"

"_Sì__._"

Her black eyes trained on Feliciano, her glasses catching a glare and hiding what emotion lay behind them, "(Feliciano. Pack your things, you're going with your brother.)"


	2. Chapter 2: Andando

**A/N: **Things left untranslated are either obvious, or not spoken in Italian (because since this is written from Feliciano's point of view, he won't understand any languages besides Italian and English.) There's no need to look up the untranslated bits, because they're not meant to be understood really, but if you want to, go for it. And if you think you can correct me on anything, please do. My only experience with foreign languages is two years in Spanish and a _ton _of online Italian courses, so any help is very appreciated. (Oh, and fear not, I didn't even touch Google translate.) Though, there is one thing I must request of YOU, fine readers. Since, as I stated, I have little experience in foreign languages, I need a little help. I know the grammar when it comes to Spanish and Italian well enough to get by, but there is one language that is bound to surface in this story sooner or later that I have NO experience in what-so-ever. German. I know almost _nothing _about it, and I would really appreciate it if one of you lovely readers would volunteer to help me out with it if I need it, but only if you know German, of course. Don't worry, anyone that helps me out will be rewarded with a mention in each chapter they help out on and a hearty thank you for their services.

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"_The __first __step __towards __getting __somewhere __is __to __decide __that __you __are __not __going __to __stay __where __you __are.__" - __John __Pierpont __Morgan_

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Feliciano slipped the bible into his backpack on top of his few sets of clothes. Atop that he threw in his few other possessions, among those being an almost full sketchbook, pencils all with worn down erasers, one book of mythology he'd gotten once for his birthday, and various toiletries.

No, he didn't have much. He had what he cared about, though. That was enough.

He zipped up the pale blue backpack and slung it over one shoulder, glancing around at the plain white walls of the room he'd slept in for just a few months. This happened a lot, though. He was used to saying goodbye to old rooms, and hello to new ones. He was used to living with new families. He was used to leaving them, as well. Sometimes it was a happy occasion, but usually he just found himself disappointed that yet again he was being uprooted.

Here he was, being uprooted once again, but he'd never been happier about it. He was going somewhere with a _real __brother__._ He was leaving. He would get out of this house, he'd get out of every house he'd ever been in, or ever would have been in. He was leaving all the heartbreak of foster care. He was going to have a home. A real home.

He pressed a hand to the cold white wall and smiled, a small farewell escaping his still unbelieving lips. This must be a dream, this wasn't possible. He was happy, though. This was the best dream he'd ever had.

He left the room with a small glance back, and couldn't help but think good riddance. He wasn't one to be bitter and feel that way towards things, but even the most optimistic people will become jaded in one way or another. All it takes is a little experience.

Lovino stood in the hallway with his arms crossed over his chest. His brows furrowed at the small backpack slung over Feliciano's left shoulder.

"(Is that all you're bringing? You _do_ know you're not coming back, right?)"

Feliciano nodded, "(Uh...yes, this is all my stuff.)"

Lovino's face adjusted so that he was no longer staring scrutinizingly at the small amount of Feliciano's possessions. He nodded understandingly, and led up to the living room where Ms. Rinaldi stood at the door, her hands on her hips, palms down. That meant she was is a good mood. If her palms rested face up, however, it was best for one to watch out and not tempt her wrath.

Ms. Rinaldi stared down at Feliciano for a moment as he stood in front of her, trying to think of a way to say goodbye. He really should be better at it by now, considering how often he'd had to say the words, but he never could get the hang of farewells. Ms. Rinaldi did something odd just then. She cracked a smile.

"(Good luck, Feliciano.)"

Feliciano beamed up at the tall, old woman, and suddenly launched himself at her, wrapping his arms around her bony body in a tight, grateful hug. "(Thank you! I'd say I'll miss you, but I really won't. No offense...)"

Ms. Rinaldi laughed a little at that. Also something Feliciano had never heard, "(That's good. I don't want you to miss me. I'm not a foster parent so that I can be missed.)"

Feliciano released her from the hug, glad that she understood what he had meant. "(Well, goodbye.)"

"_Arrivederci__._"

Lovino grabbed Feliciano by the arm and pulled him out through the door, grumbling, "(Come on, we have a damn plane to catch.)"

"(Plane...)" Feliciano muttered, a little mystified, before excitedly exclaiming, "(Where are we going?)"

"(America.)" Lovino said flatly.

Feliciano's eyes widened in amazement, "(Really? We're _really_moving to America? Why? Where? Oh this is just so great, I really must be dreaming I can't believe I'm even-)"

"(Calm down and get in the damn car, already.)" Lovino said, yanking the passenger door open and sliding in. Feliciano followed suit and popped into the back seat. It was then that he realized there was someone in the car he had yet to meet.

He had a deep tan and messy brown hair. He stared back at Feliciano with friendly green eyes and a grin, "Wow, you two look so much alike! Hi, I'm Antonio, you must be Feliciano, right? Lovi always talks about you-"

Lovino punched him in the arm, causing the man, Antonio, to rub his forearm in mock hurt, "_¡__Ay__, __Lovi__, __no __sea __malo__!_"

"_Simplemente __maneja__, __idiota__._"

Antonio shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the driveway as Feliciano watched, his mind buzzing with so many questions if he even attempted to ask one, he was afraid they'd all just pour out. Thankfully, before he got a chance to say anything, Lovino spoke.

"You speak English, right?"

"Uh...Yes, I speak English, but I am not very good."

Lovino looked back at him and Feliciano gave a sheepish smile. He knew his wording was horribly stiff and awkward, but in his defense the only English he'd ever learned was the stuff they made them study in school, and it was far from conversational.

"Are you good enough to understand most things, and respond without looking like an idiot?"

Feliciano thought for a second, mentally translating what Lovino had said, "_Sì__,_ I mean, yes. I think I can do that. I just don't know all the big words and stuff, and have trouble with the wording sometimes."

Lovino nodded, "Good, because _el __bastardo_," He jabbed a thumb in Antonio's direction, "doesn't speak Italian, and neither do most Americans."

Feliciano nodded in understanding. All was quiet for a moment when a question popped into his head, "I don't want to sound rude, but who are you?"

The question was directed at Antonio, who looked back for a moment to verify this, and then returned his eyes to the road. Lovino's hand clenched around a cup of coffee, and the sound of crackling Styrofoam filled the empty spaces left by the quiet.

"I'm Lovi's boyfriend!" Antonio replied cheerfully, as if the car had never been filled with uncomfortable silence.

"Oh." Was all Feliciano said. Everything was noiseless for a moment, and then he added, "That's nice."

Lovino looked back at him, his face a little shocked and skeptical, "So...you don't care?"

"Don't care about what?"

"That, that...damn it, you know what I'm talking about!"

Feliciano was confused, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I do."

Lovino's face went red, "How the _Hell_ could you not?"

Feliciano tried to think of a response, "...uh..."

"You know, he's my boyfriend...you don't have _any_ problem with that? None at all?"

"Well, no. Why? Is there something wrong with him?"

Antonio spoke, as Lovino seemed to be so flustered he was beyond coherent words, "I think Lovino's just a little surprised, since a lot of people, especially boys your age, think it's gross or something."

Feliciano still didn't get it, "Huh? Why? Are _you _gross?"

"No, at least I don't think so." Antonio replied.

"Then why would people think it's gross for him to be friends with you?"

The car was quiet for a moment while everyone processed Feliciano's last sentence. Lovino groaned, breaking the silence, "Dumbass...no wonder you're so fucking confused."

This only served to stump Feliciano more, "What?"

"Boyfriend is English for _fidanzato__._ He's not my _friend__, _Feliciano." Lovino clarified.

"Oh..._scusa_, my English isn't very good."

Antonio piped up reassuringly, "That's okay, there's a lot of things like that in different languages. You aren't as bad as you think, anyway."

Lovino butt in, "So, do you care?"

"About...you and-"

"Yes."

It took a moment of thought as Feliciano twiddled his thumbs, looking up when he had figured out how to correctly phrase his answer, "Well, no, Why would I? I mean, I know the Bible says it's wrong, but...I don't see how loving someone can be wrong. As long as you _really _love them. Actually, I think it's really lucky that you like someone like that, because some people don't, like Ms. Rinaldi, she's never been married."

"I'd feel sorry for the poor bastard that ends up with her."

"Why do you dislike her so much?" Sure, she was cold, and mean, but Feliciano honestly didn't think she was _bad _at all. She cared, but she wasn't good at showing it. For some reason he felt like Lovino might have that in common with her.

Lovino snorted, "I have a few reasons."

"Like what?"

"First of all, she made me go through absolute Hell to get custody of you."

"What do you mean?"

Lovino was quiet for a second, "She's not a big fan of Antonio."

"Why? What'd he do to her?"

Antonio answered this time, "Nothing. Lovi just means she doesn't like that we're a couple. She thought it would be...a bad influence."

"Oh...I get it. _Sì_, she can be like that."

Lovino spoke with contempt, "Exactly. Not to mention she thought I'd flake out again."

"...Again?"

Lovino didn't reply. Antonio made a noise as if he was about to say something, but Lovino elbowed him in the arm quickly, to shut him up.

"...I don't know what flake out means, but it doesn't sound good," Feliciano went on.

Silence.

"It sounds like something you should see a doctor about."

"Yeah." Lovino muttered. Antonio gave him a concerned glance, but didn't say anything. Feliciano was about to ask more questions on what 'flaking out' was, but before he could Antonio started speaking.

"So, Feli, how old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

Antonio smiled and looked back briefly, "Wow, really? You look a little younger than that! That must be something you and Lovi have in common, you're both so cute!"

Lovino punched Antonio in the arm, "Eyes on the road."

Antonio turned to face the road with a small laugh, "Is my Lovi jealous?"

"No, dumbass, I just don't want to end up in the wrong lane like the last time we had someone in the back seat. You don't have to fucking look at someone the entire time you're talking to them."

"But what if he doesn't hear me?"

"Believe me. He can hear you. The fucking _Chinese _can hear you."

"I don't talk _that _loud."

Lovino sighed exasperatedly, "Yes. You do."

"You talk pretty loud, too."

"Only when I'm pissed at _you _for talking so loud."

The two went back and forth for a while, all the while leaving Feliciano to wonder how they could even be together. Lovino seemed to really dislike Antonio, but it seemed pretty normal. Like maybe Lovino just did that to everyone. He certainly seemed to do it to Feliciano, and they'd only _really _known each other for about a half hour, now.

Interrupting the bickering, which was a mixture of Spanish and English at this point, Feliciano had a sudden question, "So why are we going to America?"

"Work." Lovino said rather dully.

Antonio elaborated, "Lovi is a translator, he got a job in New York."

"The city?" Feliciano jumped up out of his seat in excitement, only to be retrained by his seatbelt. He made a small gagging noise as the cross section of the belt dug into his neck. Stupid seat belts, he was too short to fit under them right, so they almost always caught him that way.

"Calm the Hell down. No, the state. We're moving to a small town outside of Albany."

"...Where's that?"

Lovino sighed, "Upstate. I've been there a few times."

"Oh...what's the town called?"

"Lark Valley."

"Oh, that sounds pretty...what's a lark?"

"A type of bird, like _la __allodola__._"

"Oh, that's nice!"

"Mhmm." Lovino muttered, "It's pretty small, smaller than anywhere you've ever lived."

"How small?"

Lovino thought for a moment, "Oh I don't know, maybe like a few hundred people, more or less."

"That's still a lot of people."

"It sounds like a lot, but you've only ever lived in Rome, right?"

"_Sì__._"

"Well, compare a few hundred to a city like Rome, where it's more like two or three million."

"Wow! There's really that many people in Rome?"

"Yeah. When it comes to towns, a few hundred is pretty damn tiny."

"Oh, I see. That still sounds like a lot, though."

"Trust me. It's not." Lovino said it a little grimly, as if he would rather it be a lot more than it was.

"Are you happy that we're moving to America?"

"Hm, yeah. Spain's economy is shit."  
"You lived in Spain?"

"Yeah, where the Hell do you think I met Antonio?"

Feliciano shrugged, even though Lovino couldn't see him, "So why'd you live there?"

"Studying Spanish."

"Are you good at it?"

"Not as good as English or Italian, but I'm good enough to make money as a translator."

"That's good."

Everything was quiet for a while, save for the sound of Lovino muttering curses at his blackberry.

"Hey, Lovino?" Feliciano asked.

"What?" He replied a little distractedly through the sounds of buttons being clicked furiously.

"Thank you for coming to get me."

The clicking of buttons stopped, and the only sound heard was that of the car squeaking as it stopped at a red light. Finally Lovino replied, "Don't thank me for something I was supposed to do in the first place."


	3. Chapter 3: Casa

**A****/****N****: **This chapter has definitely been my favorite to write so far, and from here on out the whole story really lifts off. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it so far. Also, I have to say I really appreciate all the excellent reviews I've gotten. When it comes to writing, I don't really do it for the reviews, but it always makes me feel good to see that people enjoy my work enough to tell me so. So thank you for that!

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"_One __never __reaches __home__, __but __wherever __friendly __paths __intersect __the __whole __world __looks __like __home __for __a __time__" __- __Hermann __Hesse_

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The first thing Feliciano was completely aware of was faceplanting into the gravel covered ground. He jolted awake and popped his head up, swatting the chunks of rock off his face, and poking at his nose to make sure it was broken. His eyes watered a little bit, the open cuts on his face stung.

"OH! Feli, I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were sleeping! You should have worn your seatbelt, then you wouldn't have fallen out of the car like that!"

Feliciano looked up, and after a moment of allowing his eyes to focus, Antonio came into view. He must have opened Feliciano's door for him, only to send him tumbling out, face first into...where ever they were.

"Are you bleeding? Oh, I'm sorry, here." He stretched out his hand, which Feliciano took. Antonio pulled him to his feet, but Feliciano was a little wobbly from head injury and general sleepiness, still.

"...Ouch...I think I'm okay, it just...hurts a lot."

"Come on, let's go see if Lovi's got any band-aids."

Feliciano nodded, and followed as Antonio walked up the gravel...driveway? Yes, that's what it was. At the end of it stood a small white house with red shutters, flower boxes overflowing with dead pansies, and a red door.

Was this home? He had slept the entire car ride from the airport, so he had not idea where they were, although it's not like he really knew where anything in America was and relation to anything else.

Antonio swing the carefully painted door open and yelled as he walked in, "Lovi? Do we have any band-aids?"

"Why?" He shot back, grumpily, from somewhere in the house where he couldn't be seen.

"Feli fell and got hurt."

Lovino appeared out of what appeared to be the kitchen, and briefly assessed the situation, "How the Hell did that happen? He looks like someone tried to sand the right side of his face!"

Antonio smiled sheepishly, "Close, eh...he just sort of fell out of the car when I opened the door."

"But I'm okay!" Feliciano was quick to add.

Lovino looked them over skeptically, and then stalked back into the kitchen, muttering some insults under his breath before speaking up, "No, we don't have any fucking band-aids."

"Oh...then what do we do?" Antonio asked, scratching the back of his head.

Lovino walked back out of the kitchen, giving him a flat look before sighing, "Come on, you don't need band-aids." He motioned his hand for Feliciano to follow him into the kitchen.

Feliciano did as he was told and followed him. It was a small kitchen, and the walls were painted in a horrendous shade of yellow, but it seemed like a happy place, as it was obvious that Lovino and Antonio had already made it a home. Empty jars lined the wall at the back of a counter, jars that looked like they were meant for pasta noodles judging by their long, cylindrical shape. There was also an empty basket and then a vase.

The fridge and stove looked like they could be from the fifties, and there was no dishwasher, instead just a small sink. The cabinets smelled like fresh white paint. Feliciano wondered when Antonio and Lovino had been here and managed move in and decorate the house.

Lovino wet down a washcloth and leaned into Feliciano, roughly rubbing at the cuts on his face to get all the dust and miniscule gravel bits out.

"Oh, _ahi_! _Ahi_, that hurts!" Feliciano tried to wriggle away, but Lovino caught him by the arm and kept scrubbing at his face mercilessly.

"It does _not__._ Come on, stop whining, I have to get all this shit out of your cuts or they'll get infected or something."

"_Infettato__?_"

Lovino sighed, "Yes, dammit. So hold still."

Feliciano still tried to squirm away, the washcloth was cold, and rough, and it smelled moldy. Overall, it was an unpleasant thing to have rubbed into his open wounds.

Finally Lovino stopped, and then reached over to the counter and squirted out some stuff from a yellow tube. He rubbed the greasy antibiotic on Feliciano's face and then crossed his arms approvingly, "See, you'll be fine. Band-aids won't do you any good anyway, you need to let scrapes air out."

Antonio smiled over at the two from where he'd been watching in the dining room, "Aw, Lovi, you're such a good big brother."

Lovino rolled his eyes and turned to put the neosporin back into the medicine cabinet, "No, I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't get gangrene on his face."

"_Sí__, _that's what good big brothers do."

Lovino turned to Antonio and threw the wet rag at his face. It draped over Antonio's messy brown hair with a wet 'plop.'

"Just go put that in the washer, it smells like the fucking plague."

Antonio gave a half grin, as he pulled the washcloth off his head and walked off out of the room, "Whatever you say, Lovi."

Lovino muttered something under his breath just then, but to Feliciano it seemed to be more of a nice comment he didn't want anyone to hear rather than a mean one, judging by the way it was mumbled through a slight smile. He then turned to Feliciano and handed him a twenty dollar bill,

"Here, take this down to the store and get stuff for lasagna. It's about a five minute walk down the street from here, okay?"

Feliciano nodded.

"Good, then go, I want to get started on dinner soon so I can get some fucking sleep."

"Okay, um, just one thing?"

Lovino groaned, "Yeah, what?"

"Is it okay if I buy some seeds, too? I mean, they're really cheap if money's an issue, I just wanted to plant some-"

"Yeah sure, just go."

Feliciano smiled, "Okay, okay! Thank you!"

He walked out of the kitchen and to the front door, but Lovino stopped him before he could leave, "One thing I almost forgot to tell you, the store isn't going to have ricotta cheese-"

"Wait, what? That's the most important part besides the noodles and the sauce how can you-"

"I _know _just let me finish before you start running your fucking mouth. Okay? God. I was going to say, they store isn't going to have ricotta cheese, so you need to get cottage cheese instead."

Feliciano's face contorted into disgust, "_What_?"

"Just trust me, okay? Would you rather have lasagna with no cheese?"

Feliciano shuffled his feet and sighed, "Fine."

"Good, now go. Feel free to take your damn time with your pansy shopping."

"But I thought you wanted to make dinner soon so that you could-"

"No, I want you to leave soon, now _go__._"

Feliciano followed the orders he was given, and exited the front door. He walked through the untrimmed yard and began to make his way down the sidewalk when he suddenly realized he had to ask Lovino a very important lasagna related question. He sprinted back to the house and opened the door,

"Wait one more thing, how many tomatoes do you think-" he stopped talking suddenly when he looked up. He had accidentally walked in on the two making out. Lovino gave him a death glare and Antonio was looking confused between the two of them.

"Sorry, I'll just figure it out on my own, sorry." He slowly backed out the door, his face beet red. He gently closed it and turned around throwing a hand over his mouth.

"_Stupido__, __stupido__, __stupido__..._" He muttered to himself, as he walked back down the sidewalk. No wonder Lovino had wanted him gone so bad and told him to take his time. Oh well, how was he supposed to know?

Well, Feliciano probably should have gotten the hint, but getting hints was never his strong suit. He just shuffled his feet down the sidewalk, his head down and biting his lip. His first day spent with his older brother, and he'd already done something stupid. Not to mention the horrible stinging coming from the scrapes on his face.

After the five minute walk Lovino had promised, Feliciano found himself standing in front of a very small looking store, fitting for a very small town. He walked in, the ding of the bell alerting everyone that someone had entered. The whole store seemed fairly empty, save for a few elderly slowly pushing their carts through aisles of creamed corn and bran cereal. A woman with a flower in her hair sat behind the only open register, idly braiding and unbraiding strands of her hair in apparent boredom.

Feliciano grabbed a cart and pushed it around, collecting ingredients for their dinner, also deciding to buy more tomatoes than he thought they'd need, because he figured better safe than sorry. In addition he bought three packets of flowers, his three absolute favorites. Daisies, asters, and sunflowers.

He walked to the checkout where the bored looking woman sat, now leafing through a tabloid magazine. She looked up with interest when she saw Feliciano begin unloading his cart, and gave him a big smile, "Hey, are you one of the people moving in next door to me?"

Feliciano thought about it for a second, "Well, unless there's someone else moving, but if not then yeah." He smiled back.

She scanned the groceries, making conversation, "Oh that's great! Ever since Kerstin died next door, our part of town has been kind of lonely. Well, except Gilbert. He never really fails to make things interesting." She said it grimly, as if Gilbert's way of making things interesting was bothersome.

"Well, anyway, I'm Elizabeta." She smiled as she bagged the box of lasagna noodles.

"_Ciao__, _Elizabeta! I'm Feliciano."

As she scanned the flower seeds she mentioned, "It's so nice of you to buy your mom ingredients for dinner and some flowers, most boys your age are too busy playing video games or something...though that _is _pretty fun."

"Oh, no, the food is for my brother, he's making lasagna, and the seeds are mine...I don't, eh, you see I don't really have a mother."

She put a hand to her mouth, "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm _so _sorry, I didn't mean to assume anything, I just thought-"

"No, no, it's okay, really. I mean, I never knew her, so it's not that big of a deal, really."

"Oh no, now I feel like such a jerk." She groaned and looked up, "Your total comes to eighteen ninety four."

Feliciano fumbled around in his pocket for the bill and handed it over. Elizabeta handed him back his change, "Here you go, one dollar and six cents is your change. Thank you for shopping at the Lark Valley Market."

Feliciano smiled and picked up his bags, "Thank you."

She looked at him strangley for a moment, observing him, she then gestured to the left side of her face, "Uh...what happened? I mean, are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I just fell on my face. It happens a lot more than you'd think."

"Oh...well, come again!" She said with a sweet smile and a wave of her hand.

"I will!" Feliciano replied just as politely.

He walked out of the store and back through the ringing door. He began the short journey home when he noticed something across the street he would not allow himself to ignore.

"_Cuccioli_!"

He sprinted across the highway serving as the town's only avenue. A car screeched to its brakes before hitting him at a good sixty miles per hour and Feliciano jumped back, yelling apologies to the very displeased looking man behind the wheel. He continued across the street to what he was so enthused over seeing. Dogs. Three big ones being walked by a tall boy with blond hair slicked back against his scalp. He was staring at Feliciano as if he had three eyes and a tail, but didn't comment on the scene he'd made crossing the street.

"Excuse me, but is it okay if I pet your puppies? I mean, they just look so cute and I've never had a puppy, especially not three, so, I can, right?"

The boy continued to look at him peculiarly, but nodded "Uh, yeah."

Feliciano grinned and set down his groceries on the sidewalk so to free his hands. He kneeled down in front of the dogs and pet them, praising them in Italian.

"I wish I had three hands just so I could pet them all!" He exclaimed as the largest dog, a german shepherd jumped up on him and pinned him down to lick his face.

"Berlitz!" The boy spoke in a commanding tone and yanked on the leash, causing Feliciano to jump, along with the dogs.

He stood up and brushed himself off, laughing a little and rubbing the dog slobber off his face with the hem of his shirt, "They're really cute. What's all their names?"

The boy looked down at the dogs, all now composed and poised like perfectly trained soldiers covered in fur, "The one that jumped on you is Berlitz, and then the dachshund is Blackie, and the hovawart is Aster."

"Like the flower?"

"Uh, yes I g-"

"Because I really like asters! I just bought some today, actually!" He dug around in the bag of groceries and pulled out the packet of seeds, "See?"

The boy looked at him peculiarly again and nodded, "Yes...I see. Well, it was nice talking to you, good-bye." He turned and began walking away, but Feliciano shout at him, "Wait! Stop!"

The boy turned around, he looked a little annoyed at this point. "What?'

Feliciano looked down and shuffled his feet, "Oh sorry, I was just going to ask if I could walk with you. Since you're going in the direction of my house, and your dogs are really cute and all."

The boy sighed, "Fine, just don't rile them up."

"What does that mean?"

"Rile them up?"

"_Sì__, _I mean, yes." Feliciano said, as he bent over to pick up the bags of groceries.

"You know, get them too excited. They can be a handful."

Feliciano walked up next to them and they both set off down the street at a quickened pace to keep up with the dogs.

"You know, I never told you my name..." Feliciano said, tapping a finger to his chin, "So I will! I'm Feliciano Vargas!"

The boy replied curtly, "I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"Your name sounds funny."

Ludwig looked at him with one eyebrow cocked, "Coming from the boy named Feliciano?"

Feliciano laughed, "You pronounce it funny."

"How so?"

He shrugged, "You just do, I can't describe it...like, you talk really sharp...does that make sense? Anyway, it just sounds silly when you say my name like that."

"I'm sorry, I'm not all that familiar with Spanish."

Feliciano laughed, "I'm not Spanish! I'm Italian."

"Close enough."

"I bet you're German. You sound German."

Ludwig looked over at him, "Yes, I am."

"You look really German, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Feliciano scratched the back of his head, "I don't know, you're just all tough looking and blond and stuff. Isn't that what people usually think of when they think of German people?"

"I guess."

They walked in silence for a moment until Feliciano began talking again, "So how long did you live in Germany?"

"Until I was five, I believe. I moved with my brother and my aunt."

"Oh, I moved to America with my brother, too! Except I don't have an aunt."

"I don't anymore, either."

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"It's fine. My brother and I didn't get along too great with her anyway."

"It's still sad."

Ludwig shrugged.

Feliciano smiled at him, "You know, I think we'd make good friends."

Ludwig gave him a questioning look, and Feliciano elaborated, "Because I think we have a lot in common. We both live with our brothers for one, and I don't have parents, and if you're living with your brother you probably don't either, right?"

"Uh, no."

"You say you were raised by your aunt, and I was raised by my grandpa, but the weird thing is I don't remember it."

"That's not that weird, if you were too young to remember him raising you. That's actually fairly normal."

Feliciano shook his head, "It's not because I was too little because I still remember...but not like a memory. I guess I can't really explain it without sounding crazy. But anyway, I think he died when I was around five."

"My grandfather, too." Ludwig said, grimly, "He raised my brother and I before we came to America to live with our aunt, since she was our only traceable living relative."

"I told you we had a lot in common! Except, I never had an aunt. I just lived in a bunch of foster homes...well, I was adopted once," He paused, "But I don't really want to talk about that."

Ludwig gave him a concerned look, but said nothing.

"Anyway, we _do _have a lot in common, see?" Feliciano smiled.

Ludwig shrugged, "I guess so."

They were nearing Feliciano's house, and he was about to cross the street again when he realized Ludwig was crossing, too.

"Are you following me?" Feliciano asked, jokingly.

"No, I live here."

There was a green house with a white door and shutters beside Feliciano's home.

"Oh, Really? We're neighbors then!"

"Great." Ludwig sounded a little less than enthusiastic. It hurt Feliciano's feelings a bit, because he really _did_ want to become friends with the boy, even though making friends was another thing Feliciano wasn't very good at. Maybe if he wasn't so annoying he'd be better at it? The problem with that was that Feliciano didn't really know what people thought was annoying. The things that annoyed _him_ were simple things like a rainy day when he wanted to be outside, or not being able to find a pencil when he wanted to draw. He just didn't see how _people_ could be annoying, but it was obvious that they could because others constantly pointed out to him how bothersome he was.

As Feliciano walked up to his door he shouted back at Ludwig, "Good bye! It was nice talking to you!"

Ludwig nodded in response and replied, "You too."


End file.
